


The Heart of a Dragon

by Mariyekos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: (I'm only in 4.2 though so nothing after that), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dragoon level 70 quest spoilers, Emotional Manipulation, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Gen, Kidnapping, Nidhogg (Final Fantasy XIV) (mentioned), Possession, Religious Fanaticism, With guest appearances by Hraesvelgr and Faunehm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariyekos/pseuds/Mariyekos
Summary: When dragonets begin to go missing, Vidofnir asks Estinien to investigate the disappearances, fearing a group of radicals displeased with the end of the Dragonsong War may be taking matters into their own hands. Upon tracing them to their hideout, Estinien discovers a group of fanatics intent on reviving Nidhogg to begin the destruction anew. Lucky for them, the perfect vessel has just arrived.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	The Heart of a Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be five thousand words. As you can see, it is not. Anyway, while this is not the first fic I've written for FFXIV it is the first one I've published, so I hope I've done okay with characterization and phrasing! I did my best on the...early modernish English that many of the dragons and primals use, but the guides I was looking at weren't very helpful when it came to past tense. Orn Khai does not speak that way because I don't remember him using it in game, and Ess Khas doesn't because I remember a few of the dragons don't and for my own sanity assumed he did not, seeing as his quests don't seem to be important enough to find YouTube/UJ cutscenes of. Lastly, the title comes from one of Kal Myhk's quests.

Though he’d taken to traveling as of late, Estinien still visited Ishgard and the surrounding regions from time to time, unable to completely or permanently part with the lands he once called home. Home to his childhood and home to an unexpected and life changing journey he’d never have imagined as a child or even young dragoon. Orn Khai had begged him to come back to visit Dravania on more than one occasion, so if asked the reason for his return he’d simply blame the dragonet rather than admitting any nostalgia. 

There wasn’t anything wrong with nostalgia, exactly, but… he would rather not admit to having such a strong sense of longing for the land of dragons when many an Ishgardian still regarded him with suspicion following the Nidhogg incident. He still didn’t know how Aymeric had explained that full situation away. Whether he’d explicitly stated the beast that had nearly destroyed the Steps of Faith and the grand city beyond it had been borne of Estinien’s own flesh and aether, corrupted by Nidhogg as it was; whether he had stated Nidhogg had returned but left out the Azure Dragoon’s involvement; or whether he’d provided some half-truth partway in between. Nor did he wish to know. At times he wished he could simply forget it all, though he knew it impossible. Besides, he felt he had a duty to remember what transpired, if only to prevent a similar incident from occurring and reforming the rift between man and dragon that was just barely beginning to close after a thousand years of death and betrayal and hate.

The walk to Anyx Trine was pleasant, all things considered. No dragon blocked his path. None of Hrasevelgr’s brood at least. ~~or Nidhogg’s, which was odd given stragglers were still known to launch attacks on the unsuspecting traveler. But, was it really odd when...~~

A few hippocerfs launched hopeless attacks that ended with their lives snuffed out by his spear, as did several bandersnatches meet their ends when they were unfortunate enough to cross his path. One had gotten into some sort of conflict with a young member of Hraesvelgr’s brood that earned Estinien much thanks once the beast was dead, the wyvern flying away with a promise to inform Vidofnir of his coming arrival. Not that he’d asked it to do so, but he wasn’t going to stop it when it could fly and he couldn’t.

It was still odd, coming to terms with the fact that he’d gone from killing dragons to saving them and earning their thanks. 

What would he have done if he had come across such a scene five years prior? Waited for the wyvern and bandersnatch to kill each other off, leaving them to their business? Let them fight until one was dead and pick the other off? Interrupt the battle in an attempt to kill them both at once?

He frowned, wiping his spear clean. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t help him with his current goal. It wasn’t something to forget, not when he knew what pains and problems could come from forgetting, but it wasn’t something he needed to focus on for the moment. What was important was making his way to Vidofnir and paying her a short visit to please Orn Khai ~~and the rumbling desire in his belly to meet with _kin_ ~~ before setting off for the Churning Mists and Hraesvelgr or some other destination he’d decide when he got there. Had he been pressed for time he could’ve used an Aetheryte some week or two past rather than walking the entire way. But that feeling of nostalgia had held him tightly, so he chose to forgo the convenience of teleportation in favor of a mostly pleasant journey through ice and snow and mist and woods that would end at an aetheryte to carry him away if he decided he was tired of travelling the long way around. 

Orn Khai greeted him in front of the steps of Anyx Trine.

“Decided to visit your aunt, have you?” Estinien greeted the dragonet, giving him a quick pat on the head without stopping. He hadn’t slept or eaten as much as he probably should have the few days prior, and he could feel the weight of his armor pulling him down with each heavy step that fell upon the ancient stone of the structure. Normally he would take better care of himself, but for some reason...

Orn Khai did a flip, happiness evident on his scaled face. If he noticed Estinien’s tired sigh, he said nothing of it. “Yes, but I stayed to visit you! Father had asked me to pay aunt Vidofnir a visit so I came to say hello, but then one of her daughters rushed in telling us you had aided her and would be on your way, and I could not leave after hearing such a thing. It is most wonderful to see you Estinien! I am so happy you came back to say hello.”

“With the way you pestered me, how could I not, you little menace? I swear I could hear the echoes of your begging in my ear every time I lied down to sleep with how often you insisted I return here back when we stayed in Kugane and the Steppe,” Estinien chuckled. He took a deep breath, pausing for a moment to raise an eyebrow at a now-pouting Orn Khai.

“I did not _pester_ you!” he cried back, his flips becoming more frantic. “Although...perhaps I did mention it more than a few times.” He flew closer to Estinien, placing his head on the dragoon’s left shoulder. “Oh I am sorry, Estinien. Is that why your eyes have blackened again? Ser Alberic told me that when men get tired their eyes get dark back when he helped smuggle me into Hingashi and I asked him. Have my words really troubled you so?”

Estinien blinked. So Orn Khai had noticed. “You needn’t worry yourself. It was a joke. Any dark circles I have are because of my own carelessness and my own thoughts; not anything you’ve done. I was impatient in getting here and didn’t treat myself as I should have on the journey. There’s no need to apologize. Now pick yourself up; I don’t want dragon snot staining my armor. If it’s anywhere near as potent as your kind’s blood I’ll be scrubbing the spot for a week.”

“I did not get snot on your armor!” Orn Khai cried, pulling away with a quick motion. “See here! There is not one drip of snot on your shoulder. I may be younger than many of the dragons you are familiar with, but I am no child! I do not get snot on my friends!”

Estinien let out another short laugh before quieting and resuming his walk, entering the door to the magnificent structure at the center of Anyx Trine. He waved to one of the dragons on the ground floor. It sleepily blinked at him, raising a wing to return his greeting before curling back into its...very cold and uncomfortable looking spot on the rubble covering the floor. 

Someone should really fix that. From what he understood the moogles were in some sort of negotiations with Ishgard to repair some of the structures in the Churning Mists, but he hadn’t any idea whether they had any plans to fix up Dravanian structures in the Dravanian Forelands as well. He’d sooner take a spear to the gut than return to Moghome with its wretched flying furballs who he swore should have gone extinct already with their carelessness and recklessness and…

No. He would not let them claim his thoughts. He would not afford them that victory. If he was curious he could ask Aymeric, who would likely appreciate his presence significantly more. And be less likely to give Estinian a migraine in the process.

“‘Tis good to set eyes upon thee once more, Ser Azure,” Vidofnir rumbled once Estinien reached the second floor, taking a few steps to help close the gap between them. “I see Vedlfornir’s son has managed to accost thee before I was able.”

Orn Khai chirped some sort of protest in response as Estinien fell into a bow. “‘Tis good to see you as well. Vidofnir. How fare you and your children?”

When he rose, the pained look in Vidofnir’s eyes sent a bolt of worry through Estinien’s gut. “I am well, but my children…” She looked out toward the Forelands, gaze directed toward a small beam of light coming through one of many holes in the wall. “An alarming number of dragonets have disappeared these few weeks past. I know not for why, nor to where. At first I thought them to have simply gotten lost after venturing farther than usual during one of their games. They have grown more bold and an unfortunate bit more reckless since Nidhogg’s defeat-” ~~a different sort of pain shot through Estinien’s gut at that phrase~~ “-with less to worry about, seeing as most of his brood has receded and the men which hunted them in days past have grown scarce. But the wyverns I sent forth to find them returned with no dragonets and bereft of clues as to where they might have gone.

“After the fourth dragonet was nowhere to be found, the first three having all at once disappeared on an outing, I did order the dragonets not to leave Anyx Trine without an older, stronger dragon accompanying them. But Kal Myhk soon slipped away without informing us, likely to collect more medicine for his brother, and hath not been seen since. Five dragonets are now lost to us. I do not wish to blame the Ishgardians when peace seems so close, but I know that not all of your kind are pleased with the war ending in truce between our two peoples. 

“I know thou may have only come to say hello, but please Ser Azure. Wouldst thou aid me in my search for the missing children? Though their disappearance may have taught mine other children to stay close to home as I have always wished them to, I do not want this lesson to be written in blood. My siblings and I have agreed to contact Ser Aymeric if the dragonets are not found in the coming week. We do not wish to accuse thy people of a crime they have not committed, but with each day that passes our belief that our children still live fades away, and we cannot and will not wait much longer.”

Estinien frowned. If some Ishgardians had decided they wanted to restart the war, why kidnap dragonets? Though he would never have done so even in his most vengeful of days as a dragoon given he’d always held himself to at least some sort of honor code, why not desecrate the corpses and present them to either dragon or man? If they wanted to prompt anger from the dragons, they could have killed the younglings and left them where they died. If they wanted to motivate other Ishgardians to join them and resume their old crusade, why not maim the bodies and tout them before the people as a sign of coming victory? 

Why _kidnap_ dragons? What would one even do with a kidnapped dragon? Drug it and keep it as a pet?

“Do you have a rough idea of where the dragons were when they disappeared? If so, I shall investigate the area to see if there are any clues that elezen eyes might pick up even if dragon eyes did not. And please, simply Estinien is fine. I’ve long since abandoned the title of Azure Dragoon and would rather not pick it back up.” If they really wanted to call him by a color, then he’d accept Orn Khai’s Crimson Dragoon suggestion. But he wouldn’t offer it up himself either. He’d rather be a man before a title.

“As thou will it, Estinien. We know of a general area, though not the precise location of their disappearance. Speak with Ess Khas for more information. The first three to disappear were his only children, and he hath spent many a day looking for signs of their presence. I ask that you treat him with a gentle soul. His children are very dear to him, and he hath been most upset since the day they were lost. Grief can transform a dragon in the most terrible way, as thou knowest better than most.”

Estinien swallowed hard. _As thou knowest better than most._

As he did, from the years of trying to avoid the eye’s terrible influence to the days and weeks and seemingly unending time of being Nidhogg’s personal toy, grief and rage and pain washing over him as if the emotions were born from the depths of his own soul rather than thrust upon him by the beast he’d hated so long.

Two beings who lived for vengeance. One, to kill man for their part in his sister’s death. One, to kill dragon for their part in his brother and parent’s and village’s deaths. Both uncaring for the pain of those who would be left behind by the results of their vengeance. By the deaths their violent hands would bring as they cut down those who hadn’t done the deed themselves, but were closely enough related to sate their desire for revenge for at least a little while. But never fully. Never enough.

Vengeance would never bring back the dead. It just perpetuated a cycle of hatred and killing that would never end. The only ways to bring it to a close were to be the last one left standing or to broker peace.

Nidhogg was content with reaching the former ending. Though he cared for them to an extent, many in his brood were little more than living sacrifices in his quest. He was so pained by Ratatoskr’s death that nothing else could come close. He’d been numbed to the deaths of his children in a way he’d never numbed to the loss of his sister, accepting and even glossing over their deaths so long as his children killed at least a few of the beasts who had descended from his sister’s killers along the way.

Estinien…

Estinien had thought he’d be content with the former as well. That once he killed Nidhogg, everything would be right again. He would be overjoyed, he would feel the spirits of his family and childhood friends rallying around him with praise and thanks and finally peace, and he would move on to his life. Or die in the process. Either was acceptable, so long as Nidhogg died in the end.

But when he thrust Gae Bolg into Nidhogg’s skull and ripped Hraesvelgr’s eye from its socket…

There was no rush of joy. No feeling of elation. There was hardly even satisfaction.

It felt empty. It felt...sad, almost. He’d done it. The creature he’d despised so heavily for the last twenty years of his life (and had feared for the twelve years before, as all Ishgardians did) was dead, as far as he knew in that moment. But his success was no magic cure for the grief and anger Estinien had survived on for two decades, and that felt almost worse. When they finally killed Nidhogg for good, on the Steps of Faith...by then he felt something akin to pity. He couldn’t forgive Nidhogg for what he’d done. Murder was no excuse for more murder. Not to the extent that Nidhogg had perpetuated his suffering, at least. But Estinien understood why Nidhogg had been driven to such actions, saw the parallels in their life, and…

‘Twas good Nidhogg died. Estinien, or his allies really, had accomplished his life goal. That was that. He did not find his happiness there either, instead weighed down by the grief Nidhogg had felt so strongly it left a permanent mark on Estinien’s own heart.

The peace agreement, on the other hand, felt fulfilling. He knew he hadn’t been particularly helpful in forming it, doing more to criticize Hraesvelgr in the moment than further the negotiations Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light ~~and Ysayle, poor Ysayle who had gone out in such a bang but deserved death far less than he did for all the harm that came from his ignorance and pride~~ had put forth. 

Like revenge, the peace agreement would not bring back the lives that had been lost. But unlike murderous, hate-filled revenge, which only encouraged the survivors to continue the violence and perpetuate the cycle of death and destruction, a truce would end things there. The dead would not return. But more bodies would not be added to the funeral pyre, and that was more important in the end. What better way to honor the dead than to save the lives of their children rather than adding another name to the headstone of the family grave? 

There were those that fought to slaughter the dragons. Those who saw war as a reason to kill rather than protect. But wasn’t the ultimate goal to save Ishgard and her people? Many thought the two one and the same. But as it was slowly being revealed, they did not have to be, nor would they. Either dragon and man would come to coexist with one another as they once had, or the millennium of damage would form a rift that meant the two would exist separately, but at least without harming each another. 

True coexistence likely wouldn’t come in Estinien’s lifetime. But it would eventually, he hoped.

Or it would if rogue Ishgardians didn’t suddenly decide to start kidnapping dragonets and angering the powerful beings they were supposed to be making peace with. 

“I’ll do my best not to displease him,” Estinien finally responded, bowing to Vidofnir before heading over to talk to Ess Khas.

Estinien could practically feel the grief rolling off the dragon as he approached, watching as Ess Khas flexed his muscles repeatedly while letting out deep breaths. Trying to calm himself while imagining rending those who had taken his children limb from limb, maybe. Or just standing there being a dragon. Estinien was no expert on dragon body language.

~~Or was he? He had thousands of years of expertise on the matter sleeping at the back of his mind, a gift from one of the first dragons who had both intentionally and unintentionally imparted much of his knowledge on the boy whom he had taken as his vessel .~~

“Ess Khas,” he began, inclining his head but not dropping into a full bow. “Vidofnir has informed me of your children’s disappearances. My condolences, first and foremost.”

The dragon rumbled, something like a sigh from the belly of a great beast. “I give you my thanks. The little ones should have known better than to roam where men could see them, truce or not. Yet their boldness knows no bounds, despite the thrashing your Warrior gave them. Would that I had them here to thrash myself now. They should know the strength of men, and to avoid it, yet they must not have, for if they did they would not be gone. No other beast of these lands could have taken them so silently and without a sign.”

“If you have any idea where they were last located before their disappearance, I would be glad to investigate the area. Perhaps the men that took them left signs unrecognizable to dragons, but evident in the eyes of men,” Estinien suggested.

“Perhaps. Here, mount my back.” Estinien raised an eyebrow. So he was to ride a dragon? The first dragoons had done as much, but to do it himself... “I will take you to the place my children were last seen. May you have more fortune in discerning their location than I.”

Estinien did as asked and Ess Khas was soon soaring across the Dravanian forelands, wind whipping at their sides as he navigated the misty skies. 

It felt nice, flying as they were. Estinien had always loved the rush that came with the dragoon Jump; that feeling of first soaring high up into the skies and then plummeting with a controlled spiral that could rend the land beneath him in twain. The wind biting at his exposed elbows and slicing past his cheeks the higher he lept and faster he fell. It always ended too soon. But flying as he was, the feeling was prolonged far more than even his highest jump could hope to achieve. It was wonderful. ~~And right. Far more right than it had been before the melding of their souls, which had been split so violently, but...completely? Truly?~~

They landed on the East side of the river crossing, halfway between the Vath and Gnath encampments. 

“One of the other younglings said he saw my sons heading in this direction. I caught their scent here, by the bridge, but it disappears afterwards. The only trail leads back to Anyx Trine, and by the way it fades I know they did not return there, only venturing here before disappearing,” Ess Khas explained.

“Got it,” Estinien responded, dismounting in a quick hop that saw the heels of his boots sinking a finger’s length into the mud of the riverbank. He extracted them with a grimace. “I’ll let you know if I find anything of interest.” His tracking skills mostly lied in locating dragons and the beasts of Coerthas, but hopefully something in the area would give him a clue as to where the dragonets could have gone. A scrap of cloth, a fragment of metal, something.

Thirty minutes of careful searching went by. For a several hundred year old dragon, Ess Khan was clearly growing impatient. Estinien briefly considered trying to offer him some sort of reassurances, but decided against it. Comfort wasn’t his strong suit. Better to keep quiet than risk making things worse. Another hour passed.

Eventually Estinien’s left heel sunk into the river bank once again as he leaned to examine a branch that looked to have been broken by a spell, causing Estinien to curse and jerk his now-muddied boot out before he faceplanted into the mud before him. “Damnable thing!”

Ess Khas snorted from a few feet away as Estinien glared at the disturbed mud that had threatened to ruin his day.

Then, in the hole his heel had made, he saw a glimmer.

He kneeled down, ignoring the disgusting squelching sound that arose when his knees dipped into the mud and plunged his hand down into the hole, feeling something hard through the fabric at his palm. He pulled his spear off his back, using it to enlarge the hole and dislodge the shiny object from its place beneath the mud and stray rock.

When he extracted it, he realized he was looking at an ice crystal. The type that came from the heart of an ice sprite.

“What is it?” Ess Khas asked, walking forward to glance over Estinien’s shoulder.

“Our clue,” Estinien breathed, satisfaction washing over him. 

Ice. So they were based in Coerthas, somewhere outside of Ishgard proper. The crystal was attached to a necklace, the sort which Estinien knew the superstitious tended to wear to ward off the worst of the cold. They believed it would form a sort of invisible barrier around their body, either blocking the frost from getting to them or absorbing it before it could penetrate their skin. A superstition which had been born in the Coerthas Western Highlands in the winters before the Calamity, but spread elsewhere when ice and snow took the rest of the Holy See under its terrible grip.

The charm he held in his hand was worn, the twine that made up the majority of the necklace fraying. The shape of the crystal, carved into some sort of symbol he couldn’t name the exact origin of, was of an older design as well. He remembered a few particularly cold nights out on patrol when some of his squadmates had compared their charms, one particularly loud woman whose name he’d long forgotten holding up a charm she said had been passed down in her family for generations. It had looked different than the new charms a few of their companions had held. It had looked the same as the one he held now.

So that meant the kidnappers were likely from the Western Highlands. But were they still based there? And if so, where in the Western Highlands were they hiding?

“What is this clue? What have you gathered from the gem you hold?” Ess Khas asked, desperation evident.

Estinien explained what he had discovered. Ess Khas breathed a sigh of relief.

“‘Tis much more than I have found out in all my weeks searching. I thank you, Ser Estinien.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The Coerthas Western Highlands is a large region. It would take weeks to cover it all in any sort of thorough manner, and even then we’d have to skip certain areas. I’ve hardly done anything at all.”

“You needn’t discourage yourself. I am grateful for your aid, if only for the peace this small bit of knowledge has brought me. Though they may be bold and reckless, my boys are strong. They will persevere. I know it. They must.”

Estinien wasn’t sure how to respond. So he put his head back down, looking for further clues.

He didn’t find any. He searched and searched until his armor was near-completely coated with mud and the sky grew red with sunset and Ess Khas insisted they returned to Anyx Trine to rest before beginning anew with first light the next day. Before they left Estinien stripped of his armor, washing it off in the river to rid it off the clumps of dirt and grass and whatever else had stuck to it. It would be a pain if he waited until morning after it had dried.

Putting it back on for the flight back was a stupid idea, he realized about halfway to the tower. The water was near freezing, and metal held the cold far better than most materials. Combined with the high winds biting at his sides from the speed of their flight, Estinien found himself chilled to the bone, teeth chattering when they finally landed by the Aetheryte.

“Is something wrong, Ser Estinien?” Ess Khas asked when Estinien practically fell off while dismounting, face contorted into the closest a dragon could probably get to a frown.

“I’m fine,” Estinien rushed, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them. Maybe a jog up the stairs would help.

“Though I am not familiar with the ailments of men, you do not seem fine,” Ess Khas called after Estinien, watching as Estinien walked into a staircase too narrow for Ess Khan to enter.

“I agree,” Vidofnir said when Estinien reached the second floor. “Though I believe I know what ails thee. Come, child, and remove thine armor. My side is warm, and my wing can blanket thee where we have not the cloth to spare.”

“I-”

Before Estinien could object, Orn Khai flew before him, making Estinien recoil from the sudden proximity.

“Oh no, are you sick, Estinien? I hope I have not pushed you too far by making you come back.”

Estinien waved him off. “No, no. You’ve naught to apologize for. My own foolishness brought this on. Nothing more. My excitement over having found a clue kept me out longer than I should have, and my rush to return had me making poor decisions about cleaning armor in freezing waters and then donning it again.”

Orn Khai and Vidofnir both gasped. 

“Thou hath found evidence of the children’s location?” Vidofnir shouted, the power of the sound making the old stone beneath Estinien’s feet tremble. At the same time, Orn Khai exclaimed “you found them?”

“Yes and no,” Estinien replied. “I found a necklace at the spot they were last seen that I know to be most common among those from the Coerthas Western Highlands. But I’ve found no more clues thus far, and I wish to find at least something else ‘ere I depart on a fruitless chase.”

A harsh shiver wracked his body. Maybe it was time to remove his armor.

As he released the various straps and clasps that held the pieces in place, Orn Khai asked another question.

“Do you know of any groups of radicals in the Western Highlands? Heustienne mentioned tracking some at some point, but I do not know where she went or where they were from.”

Estinien paused for a moment. “I don’t know where the ones she dealt with were based. But I know Ysayle had a hideout in the northeastern part of the region, near Gorgagne. It was cleared out by the Temple Knights before the end of the war though.” He resumed his task.

“Are the Temple Knights still there? Maybe we could ask them if they’ve seen anything!” Orn Khai suggested.

Estinien shook his head. “Doubtful. I think they’ve largely withdrawn from the region to focus on efforts to reclaim more hospitable lands closer to the city.”

Orn Khai hummed in response, but said nothing. Another shudder passed though Estinien, though not as bad now that he’d removed most of his armor.

Vidofnir waved a wing. “Come close, Estinien. Thou needn’t suffer when I have offered thee mine aid.”

Estinien sighed but did as she asked once he’d removed the last of his armor. He hadn’t switched out the long but thin shirt and pants underneath since his time on the much warmer Azim Steppe, and he was surely suffering for it. Hiding under the wing of a dragon was awkward to say the least, but as he lowered himself to the ground by Vidofnir’s side and found her sweeping her wing down to cover his body, he had to admit it was pleasantly warm.

“Just for a few minutes,” Estinien insisted, a grumble in his voice. “Long enough to warm up. Then I’ll sleep on my own. You don’t have to keep this up…”

“‘Tis no bother, child,” Vidofnir replied, voice sweet and motherly. “If only mine own children still wished to sleep and cuddle at my side. I grow lonely with them off in lands unknown.”

Estinien grumbled some more. He was not _cuddling_ a dragon. He was next to one because he had helped its friend and sibling and had overestimated his body’s ability to keep itself warm in the process. It was a quick stop. That was all. Cozy or not…

...or so he told himself until he blinked and realized there was light coming from the holes in the stones leading outside again. 

Light? But it had just been sunset…

He jumped to his feet, practically throwing Vidofnir’s wing off himself.

“Did thou enjoyest thy rest, Estinien?” Vidofnir asked, sounding much too pleased with herself.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he shot back.

“Why would I have done so? It was plain to see thou hast not rested well these past few days. What wouldst thou have accomplished had thou remained awake through the night?”

Estinien grit his teeth. ‘Nothing,’ the answer was. Nothing but making himself even more tired and likely to falter. 

The glint in Vidofnir’s eyes let him know she knew his response even without him voicing it.

He glanced around the room. “Where’s Orn Khai? Has he returned to be with Vedrfolnir up north?”

“I believe so,” Vidofnir responded. “He departed soon after sleep claimed thee.”

“Thanks.”

Estinien donned his armor once more, slinging Nidhogg over his back before descending the stairs to meet up with Ess Khas at the steps to Anyx Trine.

“Good morning,” he said, Ess Khas returning the greeting. Then Estinien jumped onto his back once more and they departed for the spot he’d found the crystal at. 

This time, they chatted a little as Estinien stalked the area looking for clues. He found a draconian rosary a hundred or so yalms downstream of where he’d found the ice crystal, further cementing their belief that the dragonets had been taken by men rather than monsters. But nothing that indicated a precise (or even general) location of the kidnappers any better than the crystal had.

“What business does Orn Khai have in the South?” Ess Khas eventually asked, nearly two hours having gone by since their last useful discovery.

“Excuse me?” Estinien raised an eyebrow. Vidofnir had said the young dragon planned to return to his father up _North_.

“I saw him departing for the South late last night. I know you two spoke last night, and that he adores you. I thought you might know his destination.”

His destination? What business did Orn Khai have in the South? Estinien knew he held no love for the Gnath, often frustrated with their one mindedness. Maybe Tailfeather? But that was directly East of Anyx Trine. So where else-

Estinien dropped the rosary, which he had pulled out again as if gazing at the thing would lead to some sort of helpful revelation. His eyes went wide, momentarily frozen before he swung around to face Ess Khas.

“What bothers-”

“Fly back to Anyx Trine and tell Vidofnir to meet me at Gorgagne,” Estinien ordered, running a hand through his hair. “Fury help me- Orn Khai heard me talking and must have gone to investigate the heretics’ hideout to see if they had brought the other dragonets there regardless of the fact that he can hardly defend himself and- ghah! We have no time to talk. I shall see you there!” he shouted, breaking into a sprint as he headed toward Tailfeather and the nearest Chocobo porter. 

Ess Khas shouted something along the lines of “But where _is_ Gor-” back at him, but Estinien paid it no heed.

He needed to find Orn Khai before the young dragon found himself wrapped up in either some sort of ritual or just plain murder that Estinien couldn’t save him from. 

Damn it! He knew Orn Khai was curious, and that while the dragonet usually had at least some sense of what was reasonable and what was reckless, that sense did fail him from time to time and Estinien should’ve anticipated that. He prayed to the Fury that he’d arrive in time to stop whatever the kidnappers had planned, were Orn Khai’s prediction that they were based in Ysayle’s old hideout right. 

“I need a chocobo that can take me to a non-porter destination, preferably one that can fly through snow,” Estinien rushed at the first chocobo porter he saw, practically mowing the man over when he finished his slowing sprint half a yalm in front of him. “There’s no time, I will pay you triple the normal fee, just give me whatever you have. Ishgard’s chocobos are sourced from this small village and I’ve no doubts you have something capable of what I need. I only need it to get me a few hundred yalms past the Coerthas river, directly to the east, and it can fly back on its own. Please!”

The startled man blinked at him a few times before shouting the name of a soft but muscular chocobo that was brought out moments later. “The fee is three hun-”

Estinien dropped two allagan silver pieces on the crate next to them, not caring to ask whether the three hundred gil was already the tripled price or not. He mounted the chocobo, waved the man off, and took to the skies.

* * *

There was, of course, a blizzard in the Western Highlands as Estinien made his way for Gorgagne, the frost clinging to his hair and lips and eyelashes as he pressed the chocobo forward, thanking it and apologizing for putting it through such a stressful situation in the same breath. Its thick plumage and high body heat kept the ice from sticking to it too terribly, but he still felt bad for it.

Not bad enough to stop though. He was on a time limit. He was sure of it. Where he had before worried that Orn Khai might have been captured he now knew in his heart that his fears were true, whether because of some premonition granted by Halone, his friendship with the dragonet, ~~a sixth sense for his other branch of kin granted by Nidhog~~ g, or some other power. The closer he got to the abandoned farmhouse the more the churning in his gut grew until he was absolutely certain that six partially maimed dragonets waited for him beneath the earth, hidden away in a thought-to-be abandoned basement now unguarded by Temple Knights because of their redirected focus. 

The chill bit into his own skin as well. His armor absorbed the cold around him, hail and sleet getting into the open bits and melting where it got too close to skin. But he didn’t feel too uncomfortably cold, not enough to distract him from his focus. Maybe he should have been worried about that; his skin almost felt like it was alight. Maybe his body was confusing one extreme temperature for another.

But it mattered little. He could see the farmhouse below. He Jumped off the chocobo, giving it the three taps that told it it could return home. A plume of snow fluff erupted into the air where he landed. He paid it no heed, fumbling to find whichever door was the open one. On his third try he grew impatient and thrust his spear through the door, dragging Nidhogg’s sharp blade through where he estimated the lock to be and practically wrenching the thing from its hinges when it finally popped a fraction of a yalm open.

He heard a yelp from the basement. As he stormed in he saw two elezen standing in the stalls leading up to the basement stairs but ignored them. The dragonets were not with them. He could tell. ~~The part of him that was still Nidhogg could tell.~~

What he found in the basement was a circle of unmoving dragonets. 5 spaced out a few yalms from each other, the sixth held by the scruff of his neck by a hyur women with a wide smile. Someone looking far too pleased with herself for what she had done. For what Estinien planned to do to her.

“He is come,” she breathed, too-red smile widening even further. He dearly hoped her lips were painted with a normal sort of makeup and nothing more sinister. If they were not… “Welcome, Ser Azure.”

“What are you doing here,” he asked from a few feet away, voice completely flat, half-knowing the answer she would give.

The candles. The positioning of the dragons. The markings on the floor. The crazed look in her eye. They _were_ performing some sort of ritual. But what…?

She didn’t so much as blink when he raised Nidhogg to her throat, Orn Khai’s limp body the only thing between him and stabbing her through the trachea. She raised Orn Khai just a little higher, gently knocking the tip of his spear with it. His scales made a small clink at the contact and Estinien withdrew the spear a finger’s length away. But only that much. He was several yalms back, holding it at nearly its back tip to get to her but unwilling to give up any more room.

There was some sort of text on the altar behind her. Everything but the title of the page was too small for him to read. ‘In search of His return’ it said. ~~It was written in Dravanian. A language he’d never so much as attempted to learn, yet knew so well.~~

“We are so happy you could join us, Ser Azure,” the woman said, ignoring his question. A few people, elezen and hyur, took a step forward from out of the shadows they hid in. The candles lighting the room were clearly not meant for actual illumination so much as for aiding whatever ritual they were meant for.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically spat, blood boiling. “What are you doing here!? Why kidnap innocent dragons? The war is over!”

The smile drifted into a frown. “Yes, it is,” the leader whispered, somehow having the gall to look upset. “Such a poor ending it was after such a magnificent show. When Lord Nidhogg tore Hraesvelgr from the skies we had thought his victory clear. But then that Demon of Light had to crush our dreams like so… I can’t imagine how painful that was for you, Ser Azure.”

Estinien’s eyebrows drew together. “What pains me most is that he was able to wreak so much destruction before he was defeated. Now answer me before I cut down your comrades!”

“They will gladly die for you, Ser Azure, if that’s what it takes!”

“What it takes for what?! What do you hope to achieve here? Even at the height of her heresy Ysayle-” no, they didn’t know the woman Ysayle truly was, “-Lady Iceheart never advocated for _Nidhogg’s_ return! She wished to ally herself with Hraesvelgr! The dragons she unleashed on the Steps of Faith were nowhere near as destructive nor old nor vengeful as Nidhogg. And she renounced her ways and pledged herself to a more peaceful end before her passing! She wanted to bring an end to the war through truce!” 

“Yes!” the woman gasped, face euphoric. “Give in, Ser Azure! We know the people have wronged you. That while there are many who like us revere you for your work as they should, or others who love you for the wrong reasons, that there are more who did not support your desire to give yourself to Him and bring His wrath upon the people as they deserved. But we will give you our all! We know the pain you have felt as a man and outsider even if we cannot know the pain you felt in the glorious moments He accepted you as His own. We only wish to bring about His return, so that Ishgard can pay for its sins as He wants it to.” The woman giggled before opening her arms wide. “Ishgard must be cleansed! Only the righteous should survive! Nidhogg will grant us the salvation the church and its lies never have. You know more than any the wrongs they have committed!”

Panic shot through Estinien. “You want to revive _Nidhogg_ to cleanse Ishgard of its sins? That won’t achieve anything! Only wanton destruction that will kill both innocent and guilty alike, whatever you think the definitions for those to be. The old Archbishop and the men who supported him and his millennium of lies are gone. Ishgard is trying to repent. The church is being reformed; the new government is already beginning to function far better than the old one. The class divide, while certainly still present, is showing signs of closing, slowly or not-”

“And how do you know this?” the women asked, a sad look overtaking her. “You have been gone, Ser Azure. You have not seen it with your own eyes. So much has changed since you’ve been gone, since He has been gone, but it is not enough.” She closed her eyes. “And it matters little whether Nidhogg accidentally smites a few innocents upon his return. They will be grateful to have been graced with His flames, His strength. Halone will know those who have been righteous and will grant them succor and a blessed place in the realm beyond. She will know those who have died for good and bless them. The evil will be burned and their lives ended. His flames will know the truth and She will help the souls pass to where their sins and deeds deem they should.”

Estinien’s voice came out a growl. “Why would Halone support Nidhogg? Everything we know says-”

“So much of what we know was wrong!” the woman screamed, jerking Orn Khai’s body in her anger. “The start of the Dragonsong War was a lie. The foundation for the establishment of the High Houses was a lie. Haldrath’s death was a lie. So too do we believe Halone’s proclaimed alignment against Nidhogg was a lie. The church wanted us to believe She would hate Him, because that hatred would benefit them and their false message. But we know the truth, and we will return Lord Nidhogg to this world no matter what it takes! For Her and for Him. For the people who deserve their succor!”

She pulled a knife from her robes and stabbed Orn Khai in the back.

“No!” Estinien screamed, lunging forward and stabbing Nidhogg forward with all his might, piercing the spear through the woman’s skull until her body was strewn over the altar and her head met the wall as the spearhead was lodged in stone. But the deed had been done.

He fell to his knees, catching Orn Khai in his arms before the dragonet could hit the cold floor. He cradled Orn Khai like a babe, feeling the blood pouring from Orn Khai’s back warm his chilled gloves and fingertips.

Around him, the woman’s followers fell to their knees in prayer, a laughable mimic of his own actions.

He did not see the look of utter joy the woman had worn the split second before she died. The joy and relief worn by her allies.

He simply felt anger. Rage. Grief. 

Fury.

The potion he tried to give Orn Khai seemed to do very little. Blood still pooled in Estinien’s arms. Warmth still bled out of the little dragonet in ways he could not stop.

The chants of the heretics grated in his ears, the words meaning nothing to him as the world seemed to close in on him. They had...they had hurt Orn Khai. They had... ~~had they killed him? Had they? Estinien was no healer; beings such as him had no capacity to heal, only maim, as had happened with his sister- with his _brother_ so long ago, dead with him unable to do a thing- ~~

The room began to glow a bright blue. The sigils on the floor lit up, the markings connecting the five fallen dragonets to Estinien and the dying dragonet in his arms illuminating as well. 

His back hurt. So, so badly. And then his temples, and his arms, and his legs, and his everything but he ignored it because Orn Khai was _dying_ in his arms and the potion hadn’t worked as he’d wanted it to and dragon blood was once again staining his armor when he’d hoped to never see that particular shade of magic-infused red again and _how could they_ _he would make them suffer for what they had done-_

And the pressure in his back exploded. The crystal light around them turned from a blinding bright blue to a suffocating deep red. The pressure in his temples was released. Orn Khai fell from his arms as Estinien ripped Nidhogg from the wall-

~~No, not Nidhogg. A spear with a sentimental name. Nidhogg was no cold object. Nidhogg was a monster. A beast. An element of destruction. A dragon full of grief and pain and sorrow and fury that was going to crush all those that had wronged him and Nidhogg was- Estinien was-~~

~~_He_ was going to pass judgment on them. Wretched beings. Wretched creatures. Traitors. Demons. _Men._ ~~

Power flowed through him as he speared the first man, his weapon cutting through flesh like nothing. It was so easy to kill. It had hardly taken any effort at all.

The red light of the crystals pulsed when his claws ripped through the neck of the next woman, severing her head and sending it tumbling across the floor. 

“My Lord,” one whispered before a wing rammed into their chest, crushing their ribcage and bursting the organs within. 

“He _is_ come!” another cried before his tail pierced their heart, a gurgling squelch accompanying the sound. 

“Our prayers have been answered!” breathed a man who found a speartip embedded in his eyes and brain a moment later. No more prayers would follow.

One by one they fell until none were left. None in the basement. None above. No one for hundreds of yalms, hidden away in the ice and snow as they were. 

The sigils and lines covering the floor were no longer visible, the bodies and blood of men covering the floor they’d been painted on with viscera and flesh and so many other reds he knew so well.

He took in a breath. He’d been too quick. None still lived. They’d died so soon. They had not _suffered_ as they deserved for all they had done, for all they had tried to do-

He looked to Orn Khai’s body, stained a red too vibrant to have come from any hyur or elezen or other man. The dragonet wasn’t even trembling.

Something seemed to break inside him. He screamed, the sound that left his body nothing that could have come from a true elezen. The farmhouse shook. Similar but quieter cries rang out from across the land, responding to the cry of anger and anguish. He pulled Orn Khai into his arms, as gentle as he could, and moved to flee somewhere safe. He didn’t quite fit through the door anymore. He tore it down with blackened claws, red power pulsing beneath the scales that covered his arms and legs and everything. 

The crystals in the basement glowed bright. So, so bright, until he had flown so far away the connection was severed and he-

…

* * *

When Estinien came to, there was a raging pain in his back and temples and a pulsing ache throughout the rest of his body. He blinked a few times. His mind was blurry. What had happened…?

From his spot crumpled on the floor he caught a blur of motion. A few more blinks and the blur solidified into a figure. A dragon. Faunehm. 

“Hast thou finally awakened?” she asked, apprehensive.

Estinien opened his mouth to respond, pausing his thoughts when he cut a dry lip on a tooth. A fang.

He brought his hands closer to his face. Part of his right hand had been blackened since Nidhogg’s eye had melded to his wrist, as had a large part of his left shoulder and chest. Blackened and partially scaled. But he hadn’t had claws then, as he did now. His left hand was still the color it had always been, but his nails…

“You were as _him_ ” Faunehm explained, sadness dripping from her voice. “Not exactly as my father. Thou didst not wear his body as I hear thou once didst, in thy battle with Hraesvelgr. But thine own form was corrupted into something neither dragon nor elezen when thou came here, my beloved’s child in thine arms.”

Panic filled Estinien’s chest, realizing the dragonet was nowhere in sight. Faunehm spoke again before he could respond.

“Worry not, young one. Orn Khai rests safe as we speak. The potion of man thou gave him did help his wounds, though they do not usually work so well on our kind. I know not the reason why this one did. But he lives, slumbering as he is, so thou needn’t worry. He needeth only rest a while, and soon he will be back to full health.”

Panic turned to relief.

“I…” 

Estinien didn’t know what to say. His thoughts were still muddled. The memories of that afternoon not as clear as they should have been.

“Thou needn’t push thyself to remember that which brings thee pain,” Faunehm told him.

Estinien shook his head. “No. I must. I can’t forget - not after all Ishgard has endured because they allowed themselves to forget, because they allowed themselves to be fed lies. I… They…” he blinked, trying to clear his thoughts and his heart. The sky above him flashed purple. “Are we in the Aery?”

“Home of my father’s brood, waning as it may be with his passing.”

“Did I come here on my own, or did you bring me here?” he asked, dreading the answer which, deep in his heart, he already knew.

“I witnessed thou descend, Orn Khai in arm, with mine own eyes. Or rather, the descent of the being which held you at its center.”

Estinien scoffed. A bitter sound. “There’s no need to paint it with sweet words. It was me. They were my thoughts and desires, twisted as they were.” He laughed again. “No, I remember now. Orn Khai was injured. I slaughtered those who had done it, relishing in the momentary pain until the disappointment of knowing they had not suffered nearly enough washed over me. Until I then came back to my senses to some extent and realized that saving Orn Khai was far more important than destroying those responsible and sought somewhere he could recover, knowing he would be safe if I could bring him back to my- to _Nidhogg’s_ home.” His eyes fell to the claws now adorning his hands. “Not that there seemed to be much difference to me in the moment…” he whispered.

“Thou art thine own soul, thine own person,” Faunehm insisted, coming up to nuzzle his head with her snout. “My father may have attempted to take thy soul, to corrupt thy spirit, but thou art not my father. The mark he hath left on you may never fully dissipate, but do not doubt thyself. Thou art a fine man. Orn Khai lives because of thee. Where my father was lost to grief and saw naught but destruction, thou saw the potential to save a life and followed that path instead. ‘Tis a show of character my father hath long since lost in his madness.”

“But how did he overcome me once more? I destroyed the eyes. He should be dead.”

“Thou should knowest the answer to that better than any man,” a booming voice announced, the words echoing in his head. It was then that Estinien realized that Faunehm and the voice were speaking in Dravanian, as was he. The translation he heard was not direct- it was simply him understanding the words.

Hraesvelgr landed several yalms away. He bore a gentle expression.

“Long has it been since I last did visit the place of my brother’s home. Even after his death did come to pass, I did not visit for fears deep in my heart that I do not desire to voice even in front of thee. But now I am come, to visit the child who hath been forced to bear the weight of my lost brother’s sins, undeservedly.”

“Undeservedly? I first lost myself to Nidhogg because of my own weakness. He claimed me because I let my guard down; because I lost myself and forgot my duty for a moment of mere happiness,” Estinien countered.

Hraesvelgr snorted. “And a mere moment of happiness is not deserved of the pain Nidhogg hath thrust upon thee, child. Thy sins are not equal to that which my brother hath wrought. Why thou persistest in thy self-deprecation I do not know. Such actions do not make a better person of thee.”

Once again, Estinien had no response. As had been common as of late.

Hraesvelgr spoke once more. “If thou art curious what came of thine expedition, the rest of the dragonets have been recovered and returned to the place my daughter calls home. None were severely injured, merely made unconscious by vile magicks that seem to have left no effects save a slight ache of the head. ‘Twas your cry that informed Vidofnir and Ess Khas of your location. They told me that though thou bestowed upon them the name of the location to which you fled, thou had not the wisdom to inform them of where such a place was located. Dragons are not familiar with most of the names men have given our former homes.”

“Ah, sorry,” Estinien responded, scratching his head. He _had_ heard Ess Khas asking him what he meant by Gorgagne, hadn’t he? At least they eventually found the dragonets? “Say, when did the children wake up?”

“About a week past,” Hraesvelgr replied.

Estinien’s face blanched. “A week!? How long have I-”

“Not much longer,” Faunehm supplied, pushing Estinien back down when he tried to rise. “Dragons sleep to recover their health, as do men to a lesser extent thanks to their many medicines. Thou hast done much the same and shouldst not worry thyself with such matters.”

Estinien looked back to Hraesvelgr. “But can you tell me why? I am...I’m not a dragon. I’m a man. An elezen. Aren’t I?”

Desperation filled his gaze as he stared into Hraesvelgr’s eyes, of which one had haunted his dreams for years, sitting in Nidhogg’s skull as it had when he’d razed Estinien’s village to the ground.

“Thou art not a dragon, no. Nor can I claim thee to be entirely a man any longer. Or simply a man, I should perhaps say. But do not think that what a group of fanatics and their crystals made of thee represents thy true self.”

Fanatics and their crystals…

Suddenly, it all made sense. 

It was clear from the decor that the heretics were attempting some ritual. When he’d come down, they’d seemed so pleased, speaking of Nidhogg’s return yet praising the fact that it was _Estinien specifically_ who had come. The blue glow that filled the room as they began to pray, the anger that had filled him that had felt so foreign until it had felt so right.

His thoughts turned to Ysayle first. A woman who so strongly believed she could call upon the soul of Shiva that she’d summoned ‘Shiva’s’ spirit using her own body as its vessel. What was it that Hraesvelgr had told her, again? ‘Thy soul hath been corrupted by a deity of thine own making.’ She’d wanted a divine being so much she’d turned herself into one.

Next he thought of the story the Warrior of Light had told him of the kobold child and Titan. He couldn’t remember _why_ that story had come up in conversation. But he did remember the Warrior’s anguish as they told him about a child who had so strongly cried for his parents to return to him that he inadvertently called upon the crystals that surrounded him, and that the primal, once called upon, had cried for the same, imbued with the child’s wish.

Had that been the heretics’ plan? To use Estinien as a human vessel to call upon ‘Nidhogg,’ as Ysayle had called upon ‘Shiva,’ inadvertently imbuing him with the desires they felt Nidhogg should have had through the power of the prayers they gave and the crystals they had assembled?

How much had the piece of Nidhogg that had melded with his soul, too tightly wound about him to ever really disappear, influenced the development? How much of that emotion and that form had been what they wished for, and how much had been born from the power sleeping within his soul? 

Ysayle had managed to transform into ‘Shiva’ even without crystal, before her sacrifice in Azys Lla. With the power of the eyes, perhaps not destroyed but instead _absorbed_ by his soul when he pierced them in Ala Mhigo, could he do the same if he…

No. He wasn’t going to consider it. There were some things that one should dwell upon, some things that one shouldn’t forget.

He decided this wasn’t one of them. 

“Thank you,” Estinien finally said, rising despite Faunehm’s attempts to push him back down. Hraesvelgr let him walk.

When Estinien found a fragment of whatever the strange but reflective material that populated much of the Aery was, he stopped to examine himself. Other than the claws and fangs, which had frankly both been half-there since his initial possession, he was exactly as he had been before the dragon incident. Momentarily removing his armor he found the black and red spots on his left shoulder and chest and right wrist and hand had not expanded at all, though the scale seemed thicker. The faint scars that ran across his body where the red glow of Nidhogg’s power had run through him on the Steps of Faith were ever-so-slightly more prominent, but that wasn’t too concerning. Someone might think he’d been struck by lightning or some such power, but he could ignore any questions about it. It didn’t look unnatural. Draconic.

He put the armor back on and looked to Hraesvelgr.

“So,” he began, taking a deep breath. “What should I do now?”

“Whatever thou desirest. Whatever duties thou still hast to fulfill.”

Estinien sighed. “What I desire…” He looked to the sky. “For the moment I feel it would be best to return to Ishgard and inform Aymeric of our new band of heretics. Unfortunately I’m fairly certain I killed all of the ones residing at Gorgagne, so we won’t be able to question any of them about whether they have any friends who share their ideas. But he’ll want to know regardless, so away I’ll go. Maybe I’ll be sent on a new hunt.”

Hraesvelgr rumbled, something like a laugh. “Yes, that sounds like a most wonderful idea, child. Thou couldst do with some friends to support thee in thine endeavors. Perhaps then thou wouldst be a faint bit more agreeable.”

“What do you mean by that?” Estinien shot back, a frown on his face.

Faunehm joined in on the rumbling laugh and Estinien sighed. They could laugh all they wanted. He was going to go find Orn Khai and wake him up to scold the dragonet for his irresponsible actions. Maybe Estinien was a bit hypocritical in doing so, but he didn’t care. Annoying kid, first pestering him to come and then leaving on his own. 

But, annoying as he was, Estinien was beyond glad Orn Khai was still alive. If he had died in that basement…

Estinien shuddered at the thought of what the half-primal whatever-he-had-been might have done. Shuddered at the thought of what current mostly-still-elezen him might do.

But he wouldn’t think of it. What was done was done. He wouldn’t be used again.

Nidhogg was dead. And dead he would stay. Estinien was his own master, and no one else.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Some of my formatting was undone when I moved the fic to AO3, so I hope I managed to fix it all! Now a few things that are basic ally just me rambling.  
> First, the semi-primal whatever you would call it possession scene. I have Estinien explain it well enough because I couldn't not have that in the fic. I just find it so interesting to think that if Ysayle, who if at all related to Shiva could call upon a false Shiva a thousand years later, and if Thordan and the Heaven's Ward were able to serve as vessels for Thordan and the Knights Twelve...does that mean Estinien could call upon either Nidhogg or the twisted half-man second form he has during his battle? Or that a group of fanatics could summon him down as the Twelveswood moogles summoned Good King Moggle Mog XII? Sort of not exactly. But I have a lot of ideas there that for all I know are explored using different characters in 5.0 or something and I want to get them out before I'm proved wrong. 
> 
> Second, having an altered wrist/shoulder. This is something I've headcanoned since Estinien first popped up in Falcon's Nest, and something I loved even more after seeing a piece of fanart I can't find right now, frustratingly. If you're going to have possession to such a degree, why not have after effects? Especially the lines. You know how his skin glows red in some scenes? I love to imagine that leaving permanent scars. Not super deep, and they look like regular scars, but still there. Is this really important for the story? Not that much, but I'd imagine it would effect Estinien's mental state.
> 
> Which is how I come to three! Estinien wasn't taking great care of himself so it was easier to fall under the fanatic's influence and harder for him to fight back. Four is that every single dragon in this fic appears in game, even down to the ones only mentioned. Ess Khas is the one with the three kids you have to fight. Five is that I call baby dragons dragonets because that's the name of the enemy. I don't remember if any dragons refer to young dragons as that in game.
> 
> Six, the fanatic leader's line about it not mattering if Nidhogg kills innocents because Halone will decide if they earned salvation or not. 6.1) Well since the church has lied about so much, I can imagine people being conflicted over what is truth and fanatics using that to their advantage and picking and choosing what truths they think are real truths. 6.2) This line was inspired by a project I did my freshman year of college. I was taking a class on Medieval Christianity and literature, and chose to write the opening chapter of a historical fiction novel about the Albigensian Crusade for my final project. In my research, I came across a piece by Caesarius of Heisterbach, in which he stated that, when asked by a soldier how they could tell whether the villagers they wished to kill were heretics or not (so they wouldn't hurt innocent Catholics) the abbot told him "Kill them all; God will know His own." This line has stuck with me ever since. This idea that it didn't matter if they killed innocents, because the innocent would be granted respite in the afterlife where the guilty would suffer... further research has stated that this was likely either terrible paraphrasing or perhaps half made up, but that hasn't made the line leave my mind. What a line. It's a terrible line and came from a terrible massacre. But it was clearly influential because here it is so! Yeah.
> 
> That's enough rambling. I hope you enjoyed, and all comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> Until next time,  
> Mariyekos


End file.
